In-Class:
- Journal: We read the poems below and answered the question at the end.
Dear The Past,
So nice of you to drop by. It took a long time for me to get used to the
fact that I wasn't going to see you again. In fact, I kind of liked the
idea. And then you show up on my door step, years later.
The first time I met you was on a doorstep. Although most other things
remain foggy, that memory is clear.
So here you come, tap dancing your way into my present, doing circles around me
as I stand in the middle, confused. You know I'm there, but you don't
speak my name. I once would have been overjoyed to see you. Would
you have felt the same?
You want something you lost. But you don't ask me if it's in my pocket or
anywhere on my person. Instead, you look over my head, to my right, to my
left, anywhere but in my eyes.
It's too bad you never asked me where to find it. I've been carrying it
around with me for years. You forgot it when you left. It was lying there
with no one to claim it so I picked it up and took it with me. At first, it was
so heavy that I had a hard time walking upright. But over time, the
weight become part of me and I adjusted. I didn't even notice I still had it
until I heard you were looking for it.
I'll leave it outside on my doorstep in case you remember where to find it
because I probably won't answer when you knock. I don't live in the
safest part of town. But by the time you get to it, it will have melted
into nothing and it will no longer be a burden to you or me. I'm sorry
you didn't come get it sooner.
All the best,
________________
Dear The Present,
I never imagined I'd meet you. Well, not like this anyway. Of course I always
knew we'd become acquainted, but I figured I'd have company. I'd be
surrounded by my own contrived memories and perfect plans. But, now that
I think about it, there is something liberating about meeting you face to face
and realizing you're not interested in my carefully constructed story.
You prefer the raw footage.
Now that we've finally met, I feel displaced. I'm stuck somewhere between
the past and the future, but belong to neither. It feels so
strange. It's a little like floating. I let go of control and now I
bob up and down with the gentle ripple of the water, staring up at the summer
sky. I can't direct myself to the right or the left without causing a
disturbance. So I choose to float.
Meeting you has familiarized me more with the concept of progress. You've
shown me how far I've come and how far behind I've fallen. You pointed
out to me how much more I can lift now that I've grown in stature and
simultaneously ridiculed me for not yet being tall enough to touch the stars
with my fingertips. What do you want from me, anyway?
Don't misread me. I'm not angry. While there are many things I
haven't learned, I do know for certain that no one is perfect. Not even
you, even though I once thought you could be. But I'm glad you're not. It
would make me feel ashamed for harboring weakness.
So let's be friends, you and I. We have a lot in common and our time
together is fleeting. Hand in hand, we could eventually reach dry land.
With Gratitude,
________________
Dear the Future,
I need a friend. I don't know my way around there yet, and I'd love to have
someone on my side in case I get lost. Will you be my friend? Thank
you. I feel better knowing that at least one of the two of us knows how
to get where we need to go.
Can I ask you a question? Is it cold where you are? I'm trying to decide what
to bring in order to stay warm when I come. It feels like I've been
packing for years. There were a few things I put in my suitcase that I
had to take out because they wouldn't fit. I tried everything I could
think of to get them in. I rolled them, then tried folding them, then scrunched
them up in to a ball, and finally sat on my suitcase to see if it would shut.
It wouldn't. And there was nothing more I could do.
So, against my will, I took them out.
Have you ever felt like you were forgetting something? I can't help but feel
that way constantly. But you know how it is. It isn't until you get
there that you realize what you forgot to bring. And then you cross your
fingers and hope you'll be able to find something like it again.
Love,
______________
What do you imagine the author went through that caused him/her
to write these poetic letters? Create a potential story from the author’s life
that inspired this poetry.
Homework:
